Changing of the Guard repost
by Sapphire1
Summary: After Egypt Ron needs to talk to Optimus Prime. In chapter 2, Judy has her say. Reposted from Cartoon / Transformers/Beastwar, as I believe this place here matches the story better.
1. Chapter 1

Changing of the Guard

By Sapphire

Word count: circa 3100

Characters: Optimus and Ron Witwicky

Summary: Ron has some questions

Rating: PG (mild swearing)

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me - I'm pretty sure of that

Beta: macx

Warning: spoilers for ROTF

The night sky was speckled with more stars than Ron Witwicky remembered ever seeing. The illuminated band of the Milky Way stretched from somewhere behind the bow of the gigantic aircraft carrier across half the sky, millions of stars cast onto the background of the universe, like diamonds thrown casually onto a piece of black, velvet cloth.

When he had looked up at the stars two years ago, he only had admired the display before his eyes for its sheer beauty and wondered vaguely what might be out there. He had read once that given the number of stars in the universe and the likelihood that many of those stars had planets, there was a high probability that somewhere -- possibly somewhere very far away -- there was other intelligent life. Maybe not life as humans knew it, but life nonetheless. Only, because of the sheer size, the incomprehensible vastness of the universe, there was no chance that humanity would ever discover this alien life, let alone make contact with it. At least that was what the scientists had said.

That was before this 'no chance at all' had turned into some of this alien life -- definitely not as we knew it, but in its own, mechanoid way, most certainly life -- making contact with his very own son, resulting in said son to save the whole damn planet and ending with one of those alien visitors claiming his garage as his living space.

After those events two years ago, when he stood outside at night to look up at the stars, he did wonder instead how much _more_ life was out there. He would gaze up, searching for telltale streaks of meteors, wondering if they were indicators for other alien visitors who were coming here, to his remote planet, to continue their fight in a war that had started hundreds if not thousands of years before he even had been born. And he wondered -- feared -- if his son -- the hero, the savior -- would once again be drawn into a fight that was not his own and that he didn't really want any part in, and if the visitors would deny him the chance of ever living a normal life.

He had an answer to the first part of that question now: Yes, Sam had been drawn into that senseless war once again, and once again he had managed to save the world, almost dying -- who was he kidding? Sam had died! -- in the process. Ron didn't know if he should be scared, proud, angry or just relieved, so finally he decided to be all of that.

He also had decided he wanted an answer to the second part of his question.

He had left Judy behind in the small cabin they had been assigned to. She was sleeping; exhausted after everything that had happened to them during the last three days. He himself couldn't sleep. Too many things were going on in his head, too many thoughts chasing each other like hamsters in their little wheels, going around and around and around, never stopping, never ending.

He had looked into the cabin next to theirs, checking on the boy -- young man, he reminded himself, not a boy anymore -- whom he barely recognized due to all the bruises and scrapes and cuts that covered his face and body. Sam had cleaned up, and now that the dirt was gone, all his wounds, all he had had to go through, stood out even more sharply than before, when before the grime and blood had hidden how badly he had really been injured. Sam had been asleep, but Ron knew that it was not a natural sleep, that drugs and painkillers played a big part in keeping him in his bed. He rather would have liked to have Sam in a hospital where doctors could monitor him all the time -- after all, his son had been dead less than thirty-six hours ago -- but the huge ship's onboard hospital was full with many who were more gravely wounded than his son, and so it had been decided after a quick examination that Sam was not in danger of dying just right now and they had sent him away to his cabin to rest.

Ron had almost stayed, had taken a chair to sit down on, to monitor Sam, watch him breathe in and out, watch him simply being alive, but he needed answers and those he wouldn't get by staying.

Even though it didn't seem possible, the huge Peterbuilt truck looked strangely like it belonged where it was parked next to the row of F/A-18 Hornets. Even in the faded night light the blue and red flames painted onto the truck's sides stood out between the dark gray tarmac of the aircraft carrier and contrasted strongly with the plain, silvery paint of the fighter jets. There were deep scratches and large dents in the metal of the truck, echoing the scratches and bruises Ron had just seen on his son, and like his son this truck -- which obviously wasn't really a truck -- had been dead not too long ago.

And -- like his son -- he had come back to life.

He approached slowly, unsure how to proceed next. He had come to talk to Optimus Prime, to ask him questions, but now that he had walked for what seemed a mile to reach this end of the ship, he didn't quite know what to say.

Was the big truck even awake? He knew the Autobots did sleep, though they called it re-charge, and as far as he understood from an explanation Sam had given him some time ago it wasn't really sleeping, though in some confusing ways similar. Optimus Prime had received a lot of damage and Ron was sure he needed to recover from it, to heal so to speak. Or could it be they just got repaired and had the damaged parts replaced, the dents hammered out, the paint brushed up? He'd never really thought about it.

Undecided he stood in the shadow of the closest Hornet, waiting for any sign the big truck was even aware of his presence.

He was just about to go back to his cabin and to Judy, when a metallic sound coming from the truck made him look up. As if opened by invisible hands the passenger door of the truck unlocked and dim lights came on inside the cab, spilling out onto the tarmac.

"Ronald Witwicky," a deep, rumbling voice spoke in greeting.

Taking a deep breath, Ron stepped forward. Obviously Optimus Prime was awake and equally obviously he knew who Ron was, though they never actually had met before. The only Autobot other than Bumblebee Ron had ever encountered in person so to speak, had been the one who transformed into a bright yellow-green rescue vehicle, and who seemed to be the Autobot's equivalent of a medical doctor. He had come by the house one day to check up on the yellow Camaro or something else, but Ron hadn't even talked to him and couldn't remember how he was called.

"Mister Prime …," Ron started hesitantly. What was the proper form to address the leader of a group of alien super-robots anyway?

"Just Optimus will suffice," the same deep voice interrupted him, a smile clearly audible in his tone.

"Optimus then," Ron nodded to himself. He felt himself relax slightly. "If you don't mind, I would like to talk to you."

The lights inside the cab grew brighter as the door opened a little further in what was clearly an invitation. After spending more than a day inside a transforming robot, his inside quivered at the thought of getting into yet another alien robot. But then he reminded himself forcefully that this was Optimus Prime, the robot Sam trusted above all others. So he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Pulling himself up into the cab he found that it appeared very much like the inside of every other truck he had ever seen -- and much nicer than the inside of the Decepticon who had kidnapped Judy and himself. It did look a little bit better in repair than the outside, the seats and the panels in almost pristine condition, no damage visible at first glance. An air condition unit sprang to life and Ron was suddenly enveloped in a stream of fresh, cool air.

"You have questions?" the truck reminded him that he had come here with a purpose.

He nodded, only belatedly remembering that Optimus may not be able to see him. But then, maybe he did. He had detected him easily enough while he had been waiting outside.

"Yeah. It's about Sam. I'm worried about him."

There was a moment of silence as Optimus waited for him to elaborate some more.

"I believe you worrying about your son is the prerogative of a parent," the disembodied voice then prodded.

Ron grimaced. What did an alien robot know about being a parent? Did they have children of their own? Weren't they just built like the machines they are? He didn't exactly know.

"Sam was born seven weeks premature," he said suddenly, remembering a time eighteen years ago. "The doctors had to operate to take him out else he would have died. He was so tiny, so fragile. I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on him. He had to stay in an incubator for two months before we finally could take him home, he was so weak. I went to the hospital every single day for the first three weeks, hoping, praying each day that by the time I arrived he was still alive. Of course I worry. I did from the first moment I saw him and I have never stopped."

Ron had no idea why he told all this to an alien truck, one who had after all managed to almost kill Sam not just once but twice. But he somehow sensed that Optimus was paying close attention to him and that he was genuinely interested in his words.

"But, to be honest, I only ever thought that all I had to worry about was the usual stuff: drugs, gangs, maybe girls. Not giant alien robots trying their damnest to kill him." The last came out just a bit accusatory.

"It was never our intention to cause any harm to Sam," Optimus said quietly.

Ron closed his eyes as he sighed deeply. "I know that," he said, remembering how Bumblebee always acted around Sam. He knew that the yellow robot would do everything in his power to protect Sam. And if that protecting resulted in destroying their house so be it. "But it is a fact that he got hurt because of you."

"I'm very sorry about that." There was no denying the honest regret that vibrated in the big truck's voice.

"Are you sorry enough to leave him alone from now on?"

While before Ron hadn't looked at something particular in the truck's cab, he now levelled his eyes on the symbol that stood out in the centre of the large steering wheel. It was the same symbol that could be found in the centre of Bumblebee's steering wheel. Sam had explained to him that it identified his friend -- the good alien robot -- as a member of the Autobots, the fraction that opposed the bad alien robots, the Decepticons. He understood that it was a badge of honor, something that was important to the Autobots.

The silence in the cabin stretched until it was almost unbearable. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Optimus spoke up again.

"I'm afraid Sam's fate is by now irrevocably entwined with ours."

"Because what-his-name? … Megatron wants to kill him? Or because of the symbols he saw?"

Ron knew only about the symbols because Mikaela had told him about them. Sam had so far managed to avoid mentioning them.

Again a long moment of silence, then Optimus spoke: "Both. Megatron will want retribution for what Sam has done to him. He will not stop until he finds him and kills him. He has nothing else left. We are the only ones who'll have a chance to protect him."

Ron could accept that. He had seen first hand how immensely powerful those robots were. It was not something he had any desire to ever experience again. Two years ago, he had learned about the alien robots' actions only after the fact, after the good guys had won, after he learned that Sam had survived and would be okay. He had seen pictures of the aftermath of Mission City, but those had not prepared him for the sheer terror that he had seen during that battle in Egypt. And it had not prepared him for the heart wrenching fear he had experienced when Sam -- his baby boy -- had taken a dirty, sand-filled sock and raced right into the middle of it, just to be blown up and killed. That Sam was alive again was nothing short of a miracle.

"But even without the threat of the Decepticons, Sam would always be important to us."

"Because of the symbols?" Ron asked again. If it wasn't terrifying enough that a super-sized alien robot was after his only son, the thought of the symbols Sam had seen almost scared him more.

"Foremost, because Sam is our friend," Optimus clarified. "But, yes, also because of what he has seen. When he used the AllSpark to destroy Megatron and saved my life, some of the knowledge that was housed inside the AllSpark was transferred to Sam. It is the last remnant of our oldest history, the oldest knowledge of my race."

"And you never thought about making a backup copy of that AllSpark thing?"

"Access to the AllSpark did not work like that. Even though our greatest minds studied if for millennia, we never learned where it came from and knew only a fraction of what it could do. That Sam was able to manipulate it the way he did was greatly unexpected."

Ron closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. It didn't quite work.

"Sam's great-great-grandfather also saw symbols after he came into contact with your people. They drove him insane and he ended his days in a mental institution."

There, he had said it. His greatest fear. Not the fear that Sam would be killed by a rampaging robot -- a possibility that still sent icy spikes of terror through his heart -- but the mind-numbing, terrifying possibility that Sam could end up like Archibald Witwicky, an insane wreck of a human being, locked up and forgotten.

"Sam claims the symbols are gone from his mind, that he doesn't see them anymore," Optimus said slowly, almost as if in deep thought.

"Yeah," Ron tried to grin. It came out as a grimace. "But what if they come back?"

"Then _we_ will know that Sam is not insane," Optimus said with emphasis. "Your ancestor or anybody around him, never knew what it was he saw. There was nobody willing to believe him, nobody who was able to help him. We, however, we can and we will help Sam."

The last was said with so much conviction that Ron had no other choice but to believe the Peterbuilt. Though it didn't completely free him from his concern, it did go a long way to convince him that if Sam should start to see the symbols again, he would be in the best hands to help him. Even if those hands had been made of metal millennia ago on a different planet.

A yawn split his face and he covered his mouth with a hand. He then raked that hand through his hair, tousling it worse than before.

"I guess it's time for me to go back to bed. Judy will miss me should she wake up."

In answer to his unspoken request the door on his side of the cab clicked open. Climbing out, he jumped the last step to the ground. For a moment he left his hand on the front fender, a kind of wordless thank you, then he turned and started to walk back to where he had come above deck. He could only hope he would find his way back to his cabin. This ship was huge.

"Ronald Witwicky," Optimus' voice stopped him before he had taken half a dozen steps. There was a whirring, clicking, thrumming sound and when he turned and looked back, a giant robot stood where the Peterbuilt truck had parked only seconds before.

For a second cold, paralyzing fear spiked through Ron and he remembered shooting and shouting and explosions. But then he remembered also that he wasn't back in Egypt and that Optimus Prime was safe.

The giant robot went down on one knee, bracing a hand against the tarmac as he bent down. The face, almost as big as Ron's own body, was only yards away from him as Optimus' blue optics regarded him closely.

"Ronald Witwicky, we do consider Sam to be a good friend of us. Though I would never deny you the right to care for him as it is your privilege as his father, I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to see that he is as safe and healthy as I can make him."

Ron hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. "Just keep him safe, please. That's all I can ask."

"I will," Optimus swore once again.

Ron stood for a moment longer, his mind on a certain young man who was sleeping not very far away. Since the day of Sam's entry into this world, he had tried to protect his son to the best of his abilities. He always thought he had done a decent job of it, except maybe for the one time when he managed to buy him a car that turned out to be an alien robot -- and, honestly, how had he been supposed to know that Sam's first car was more than the eye could see. But now, now was maybe the time to hand the job of protecting Sam over to somebody who was better equipped to handle the new dangers his son was facing now. It didn't mean he would stop being Sam's father, or that he would stop loving his son. It meant that he had made sure that Sam was taken care of and protected in the best possible way.

That was after all the best a father could do.


	2. Chapter 2

Changing of the Guard - Coda

I thought, I was done with the first part, but then Judy insisted to have her say, and you can try to shut her up if she's in that mood ...

***************

The first lights of the morning dawn began to crawl over the horizon, illuminating the bow of the USS John Stennis as the Nimitz-class supercarrier plowed its way through the Red Sea onward to the Gulf of Aden. At the end of the deck, next to a row of F/A-18 Hornets, parked a large Peterbuilt truck painted in blue and red. The paint job had seen better days, a multitude of scratches and dents visible over most of the truck's body, almost as if it had gone through a gigantic demolition derby and had not come out on top.

Nothing could be further from the truth, though, for, to begin with, the truck wasn't really a truck but a sentient, giant robot, the demolition derby had been an all out battle to the death between him and an ancient enemy, and, in the end, Optimus Prime _had_ come out on top. Or, rather, he was still alive, which was more than could be said about the fate of his opponent.

Optimus was in a light recharge, a part of him working on fixing a million little problems that were too minor for their resident medic to concern himself with. If somebody had watched, he would have seen how some of the scratches and dents in the metal body were swarmed with silvery nano bots, and when they moved on to the next scratch or dent a minute or two later, the damage was gone and the paint gleamed like new. Similar activities were going on all over Optimus' body, most of them not visible to the human eye. They didn't require any of the giant robot's attention, but they did need time and quiet and that was why he had parked himself far out of the way of the humans.

He did pay attention, however, to the sky above, scanning and searching for any sign of Decepticon activities. Megatron and Starscream had both fled the battle, both of them badly wounded, but Optimus had no illusions that one day they would be back, possibly with more of their minions. It wasn't very likely that this day would be today, or even any time in the near future, but with Decepticons one never knew, and so he kept his sensors open as he watched over the humans on board – and on this planet. Soundwave was also very likely somewhere out there, as their analysis of the battle in Egypt had proven. Only the communications specialist would have been capable to interrupt the humans' satellite system like it had been, and there was, of course, the presence of Ravage, who had been a known drone of Soundwave. Well, at least Ravage wouldn't bother them any more, thanks to Bumblebee, who had shown once again how capable a warrior he was.

Optimus was relieved beyond words that all of his fighters, who after all were also all his friends, had survived the last battle. Arcee had taken serious damage to her Moonracer body, but Ratchet had said that he would be able to save her. Ironhide had practically lost one of his arms, though he seemed to be more concerned about the damage to the cannon in that arm than to the arm itself. The others were no worse off than he himself. Though, considering that he basically had come back from the dead, thanks to Sam Witwicky's actions, this wasn't really saying much.

As his thoughts turned to the human who had saved his life twice already, he recalled the conversation he had had with the young man's father only a few hours ago. Unlike Cypertronian relationships, human attachments rested to a large part on links formed thanks to a biological connection where the offspring of a pair of humans was educated and protected by the parents until the offspring was old enough to find his own way into the world. This made sense in a world where the raising and education of a youngling took up a large percentage of a human's natural life span, and it also made for strong bonds between the parent and the child. Ronald Witwicky had made it clear that even though Sam was by law considered old enough to take care of himself, his father wouldn't easily give up the responsibility he had taken on when Sam had been born into this world.

But in the end he had passed on this responsibility to Optimus, and the reason he had done so was because the dangers Sam was facing due to his friendship with the Autobots wasn't something a normal human would be able to handle. Sam was possibly the most endangered human on this planet as he was in the centre of a war that had not started on this planet and most likely wouldn't end on this planet and that had gone on for longer than human civilisation as such existed. Optimus wished this was not the case, wished he would be able to keep Sam out of the maelstrom that centred around the young human, but the things that had happened two years ago and now again, showed that come what may the human's fate was by some strange way now bound irrevocably to the Autobot cause.

In the graveyard Sam had told him that all he wanted was to have a normal life, do the normal things that a human of his age did. Optimus had understood this – hadn't he himself once wished to remain a simple worker and not to become a leader? Fate had seen to it that his wish had not been granted, and he feared Sam's wish for a normal life wouldn't be granted either. The AllSpark and the Matrix of Leadership had seen to it.

Even after their first encounter, Optimus had already observed that Sam had a great capacity for compassion, as was evidenced in his pain and fury over Bumblebee's capture. But when the boy had managed to use the AllSpark to destroy Megatron, Optimus had been as surprised as everybody else. Already back then he had suspected that Sam's actions would have repercussions, though he had had no idea what form they would take. Now Ratchet believed that Sam somehow had retained the knowledge of the AllSpark, and Optimus was half afraid his old friend may be right. What the AllSpark's knowledge would do to Sam, nobody could say. For now, at least, the symbols Sam had seen were gone, but nobody could say for how long.

Adding to that the fact that the Matrix of Leadership had spoken to Sam, that it had brought him into contact with the lost Dynasty of Primes, it seemed impossible that the young man would ever have something like a 'normal' life.

Sam was still young, though, even for his own race, and though he had shown so much potential, it might be years before he would need to come fully into that potential. For now, the Matrix was back with Optimus after he had retrieved it from the ruins of the Energon machine. If the time came, he could hope that Sam would make his peace with his fate, as he himself had made his peace a long time ago.

And until then he had promised Ron Witwicky that he had would look out for Sam, and whatever their future would bring he had the full intention to do just that.

A smallish, human figure came into his sensor range and it took Optimus only a moment to identify her as Judy Witwicky, Sam's mother. The woman was walking with large strides towards where he was parked, her hair in a sleep-tangled disarray, the clothing the supply master of the carrier had provided her with not quite fitting. Her body language spoke of anger and a deep set purpose. It was obvious he was the target of this anger.

She stopped a few feet away from his front bumper, placed her fists on her hips and fixed her gaze at Optimus.

"Listen to me, you big heap of junk. If you ever, EVER, allow any harm to come to my Sam again, I'm going to find you and I'll take the biggest blow torch I can get my hands on and will cut you up in itty bitty tiny pieces! Is that clear?"

Before he could respond, Judy had turned on her heels and walked back to the entrance to the lower decks.

Bemused, Optimus watched her go. Even though it was very unlikely that Judy Witwicky would be able to cause any real damage to him and Optimus was sure she knew that as well, he had no doubt that she had still meant every word she had just said. He had read before that the females on this planet could be quite fierce when it came to the defence of their offspring and as he looked after Judy he began to believe it.

He had sworn to Ron Witwicky that he would do anything in his power to prevent any harm to come to Sam ever again. Still he made a note to himself that if the unthinkable should come to pass, to stay as far away from Sam's mother as possible.

the end


End file.
